French

A great way to handle good tomatoes that are not perfectly ripe and a great way to convert tomatoes to a cooked vegetable without much trouble.

The basic European bread, which requires more patience than work. It’s eminently flexible, because at any time you can refrigerate the dough and retard the process for hours, even overnight. Many people, in fact, believe that the slower you go with bread, the better. So it’s not only acceptable but preferable to make the dough at night, leave it in a cool place to rise for 8 or 10 hours, then proceed with the recipe, taking all day—if you like—to finish it. So, this recipe is written as if you will proceed from start to finish, but you don’t have to do so.

One of the most delicious salads, offered at many Paris bistros and throughout the countryside. Good with a ripe pear on the side or cut into cubes and added to the mix.

This takes a little time and a little care; the chicken must be browned fully before you add the vegetables, since the liquid they exude will stop the browning process. If you like, you can strain this stock and reduce it over high heat to a cup or two of shiny glaze, enough to make a flavorful sauce for meat, chicken, fish, or vegetables (store the sauce as you would the stock itself). To make this even richer and darker, substitute beef or veal (using the same cuts you’d use for beef stock, page 160) for some or all of the chicken.

In Western cooking, vinaigrette is the closest thing to an all-purpose sauce. I recommend making vinaigrette in a blender, where it becomes so stable that it can be prepared hours before it is needed. Once made, it can be used on everything from green salad to cold meat, vegetables, or fish dishes to anything that has been broiled or grilled, whether served hot or at room temperature. I well remember the first time I had good vinaigrette, and it was in France. It was so far and away the best salad dressing I’d ever tasted (and at this point I was twenty-six years old, so I’d tasted at least a few, though the vast majority had come out of bottles) that I had to ask the secret. The answer—now so obvious, then a revelation—was shallots. But you can use such a wide variety of flavors in vinaigrette (see the variations) that these days the standard French variety seems almost clichéd.

If you thought consommé was for sick people, you’ll think differently after you try it. It’s deceptively addictive, a rich, clear soup with wonderful, deep flavor. There’s a reason this is a traditional starter at elegant meals; it whets your appetite without filling you up at all. You can use a food processor to chop the chicken and vegetables together; pieces about 1/4 inch in diameter are about right, so don’t overprocess.

Chervil is the most fragile of common herbs, hard to find in the supermarket but beloved by chefs and gardeners; when you see it, grab it. (You can achieve something of the same effect by combining parsley and basil.) Because this sauce contains flour, it is leaner and easier to make than Béarnaise (recipe follows), but it still has great flavor. Serve it over poached or grilled fish.

Beef stock is made everywhere there’s beef—it’s a fine use for scraps and not-too-meaty bones—but it’s associated most closely with France, where, along with other stocks, it is considered the fond, the foundation or basis for many important sauces and dishes. While canned chicken stock is an often-acceptable substitute for fresh, canned beef stock is nearly useless, and bouillon cubes completely so. Though I don’t make beef stock even a tenth as often as I do chicken stock, I’m never sorry when I do; it’s incomparably flavorful.

Yes, béarnaise is overkill, but this old-fashioned sauce has such good flavor it deserves to be made every now and then. It’s best with grilled beef or fish. If you can find it, use chervil—a couple of tablespoons—in place of the tarragon.

An invaluable sauce that has countless uses with both fish (especially poached or fried) and vegetables, not to mention canned tuna. Make it once and, although you’ll probably keep the bottle variety around, you will turn to this time and again. For a stronger mayonnaise, use extra virgin olive oil and add a pinch or more of cayenne.

Forget tartar sauce. Rémoulade is its predecessor, and it’s superior in every way, the ideal sauce for grilled (and other) fish.

The classic accompaniment to Bouillabaisse (page 138), this is also a great spicy mayonnaise for use almost anywhere.

Every seaside culture has its own fish stew, but in the West, bouillabaisse is the best known. Older recipes are quite specific about the kind of fish and the technique, but in my experience bouillabaisse, no matter how wonderful, is neither more nor less than a highly seasoned soup made with the day’s catch. So vary this recipe according to what you find at the store (or what you bring home from a day’s fishing).

This is an unusual soup, with flavors that may mystify but undoubtedly will please your guests. It’s often served cold—and called a gazpacho—but I like it equally well hot.

Pistou is a garlic-basil paste almost identical to pesto—the names in fact are the same, just in different dialects. In France it’s used less to dress pasta than to thicken soups while heightening their flavor. Pistou is usually passed at the table so your guests can add as much as they like.

In the States, cream soup usually conjures up images of thick, starchy soup with canned vegetables. But real cream soup, as made in France, is relatively thin, super-smooth, and fragrant with fresh vegetables and herbs. For convenience, you might prepare the vegetable puree ahead of time and refrigerate it; you can then finish the soup right before serving. Note that Vichyssoise, cold leek and potato soup, the variation that follows, is a direct descendant.

There’s some sort of misunderstanding in many American “French” restaurants, which seem to believe that onion soup should look like pizza, overloaded with gooey cheese. The real thing—and this is it—is something else entirely; robust, flavorful, and elegant. This is as compelling a reason as there is to make your own beef stock.

Here sorrel brings both acidity and lightness to an often heavy mixture. You can substitute watercress or spinach for the sorrel to similar effect, especially if you add a squeeze of lemon at the end. Though it has only two primary ingredients, this soup is quite complex, particularly when you begin with good stock. The best lentils to use here are lentilles du Puy or other small dark green ones. Use the greenish brown variety only if you cannot find these.

The key to good tapenade, not surprisingly, is good olives. I like the oil-cured kind for this, but they must not be too dried out or they become unpleasantly acrid, and no amount of olive oil can save them. So taste one before buying. (Regular canned black olives are fine too if you can’t find olives in bulk.) In Provence, considered its home, tapenade is used mostly as a spread for plain toasted bread or Crostini (page 41). But it’s also great as a dip for raw vegetables, on sandwiches of any type, or as a quick spread to put on meat or fish before roasting or after grilling or broiling. It will keep, refrigerated, for about a month; always bring back to room temperature before serving.

Pronounced cla-FOO-tee, this is one of the most successful spontaneous desserts you can add to your repertoire, yet fancy enough for a blowout dinner party. It can be made with any ripe fruit (including berries, and even apples if you cook them) and (aside from such tasks as pitting cherries and the like) takes well under an hour to prepare. Note that in place of the cream and milk mixture you can use half-and-half.